Justice In All Its Manifestations
by Mango Schmango
Summary: Oneshot. Post DH. Lucius and Draco are finally being held accountable for their crimes. Family loyalty has never been so paramount as it is now. We are Malfoys…we are the survivors, my son... Please read and review!


**Justice in all its Manifestations **

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling**

* * *

"They are coming," said Lucius calmly, smoothing out his robes and standing tall with all the glacial arrogance of Malfoy Pureblood pride that he could muster.

Draco glanced at his mother and opened his mouth but Narcissa cut him off. "Remember Draco, we are Malfoys, first and foremost. Do not give those Ministry ingrates the satisfaction of seeing your naked fear or discomfort."

Draco swallowed and nodded. Lucius shot his wife a swift look that was full of burning pride for her. Draco then followed his mother and the two of them stood on either side of Lucius. The Malfoys did not feel the need to express trite sentiments of love, support and loyalty. It was not their way. The flanking of Lucius by his wife and son spoke volumes instead.

Draco first placed his hands in front of him but immediately feeling foolish, he placed them behind his back and had begun rocking on the backs of his heels but with a pointed look from his mother, halted and stood still. His father was ramrod straight, his eyes fixed at the door.

The marching and the inaudible voices of several wizards could be heard on the stairs. None of the Malfoys spoke. They waited silently for the door to their elegant parlour to be swung open.

They did not have to wait long. Within minutes, the door flew open and a group of wizards poured through with their wands out at the ready with none other than Arthur Weasley at the helm.

Even at such an intense and anxiety-filled moment, Lucius could not restrain the smirk that crossed his features at seeing his old foe. "Well, _Arthur Weasley_, fancy seeing you here. This must be making your day."

Arthur's face was wan, no doubt because of the loss of his son a week ago in the final battle against Voldemort at Hogwarts and he appeared to be in no conciliatory mood. "Shut it, Malfoy," he said hotly, thrusting his wand at Lucius' chest, "This is not the time for you to be so smug."

Narcissa sniffed disdainfully at Arthur while a sneering smile spread even wider across Lucius's face. If he was going to go to Azkaban for life, well at least he would have one last jab at the man Lucius regarded as little better than a dung heap.

"What do you want us to do with his family?" a younger Auror asked Arthur.

Lucius' face hardened, the sneer sliding off his face like water sluicing off a rock in a storm. "You will let my family be. They have committed no offence."

"Yeah right!" another Auror closest to Narcissa jeered, "You Malfoys are rotten to the core!"

Draco's face flushed at the insult to his family. "You're the rot here!" he shot back and he would have said more had he not felt his father lightly touch his shoulder.

"That is enough, Draco," Lucius said coolly, though Draco could have sworn that the quickest of amused smirks had crossed his face. "There's no need to inform that low-born Auror of what he surely knows already."

"Hey!" the second Auror exclaimed, "You little—"

"Be quiet, Adams!" Arthur snapped. He turned his gaze to Lucius. "You are to accompany us to the Ministry where you will be put on trial. Your son will join you."

Draco paled and he turned to his parents.

"Please, Mr. Weasley—Draco is just a boy—just a boy who—" started Narcissa.

"A boy who took partook in atrocious crimes committed by the Death Eaters," Arthur said coldly.

"Let them take Draco if they deem it necessary. They know that he only joined under great duress. The trial won't even float. Let these fools humiliate themselves," Lucius said coldly, his fingers digging painfully into Draco's shoulders now, belying to Draco that his father was anxious about him.

Narcissa, whose face was a chalky pallor, nodded mutely. Lucius had never felt more proud of his wife than he did now. She did not fall apart, weep or wail. She merely lifted her chin and composed her face into a glacial, haughty countenance.

Four aurors came forward in order to manhandle Lucius and Draco out the door to the Portkey to the Ministry stationed downstairs.

"My son and I are quite capable to go downstairs ourselves," said Lucius cuttingly with an expression of strong distaste, sweeping his cloak behind him in a grand gesture and guiding Draco in front of him. "Come, Draco," he said imperiously, and with an intent backward glance to Narcissa, they exited the parlour followed by Arthur and the aurors and left Narcissa standing all alone in the parlour.

* * *

"Lucius Malfoy. Do you deny the acts of atrocity that you have perpetrated against your fellow beings, whether they be magical or muggle?" Kingsley Shacklebolt asked, his voice resonating around the packed courtroom in the Ministry of Magic.

"No. I do not."

"Do you deny that you were a member of the Death Eaters?"

"There's no point in denying that, is there? All you need to do is roll up my sleeve and see the mark imprinted on my skin," Lucius said silkily.

Kingsley Shacklebot coughed and fixed Lucius with a hard look. Lucius did not flinch, but stared Kingsley down with piercing and fathomless eyes. Out the corner of his eye, Lucius could see Narcissa watching him with perfect pureblood posture, but he could detect deep, almost frantic, anxiety in her eyes for him.

"I wouldn't look at your wife now, Malfoy," Kingsley said, "You should have thought about that before you dragged her and your son into a world of darkness and depravity. Your son is to be tried after you, for the malicious acts of torture and destruction that he performed whilst part of the Death Eaters. How do you feel about that, bringing your son to such a pass?"

Lucius lifted his chin, his eyes barren as any moors. "Do not _dare _bring my family into this, Shacklebolt," he practically spat, his pale and aristocratic hands gripping the rails. "They have nothing to do with this."

Kingsley glanced down at the parchment in front of him. "Really? Contrary to what you say, your son was involved in various attacks on Hogwarts and other nefarious activities…your wife is also related to Bellatrix Black, who was one of your close confederates and from our sources, your wife was quite a closeted supporter of Voldemort."

Fury bridled up into Lucius. He had never been a selfless man and had many unsavoury qualities, but he was not about to let some upstart bring down his family. He was the main player in the vanquished Dark Lord's plans, not his wife and son, and he felt the odd sensation of wanting his family's wellbeing and safety more than his own. "All the black magic I performed," he began, his voice almost choked, "Was to purify the trash that inhabited it, so the world would be a better place for my wife and our son. My son was forced to become a Death Eater under duress and he could not bring himself to kill Dumbledore. My son joined the Death Eaters because he feared for his mother's and my safety—does that sound like a violent, base boy to you? You _will not_ punish my son for my mistakes—do you understand me?" All Lucius' cold, arrogant reserve fell away as he continued speaking, his patrician face becoming flushed. "My wife saved that Potter boy's life by telling the vanquished Dark Lord that Potter was dead. If my wife hadn't have done that, _well_, we'd all be in different circumstances now, wouldn't we?"

Murmurs rose at Lucius' last point. Kingsley coughed again, his eye brow raised. "But your wife did not do that out of selflessness, did she? It was because she was afraid of whether her son was dead or alive, was it not?"

Lucius fought down the urge to leap out of his stand, grab someone's wand and hex Kingsley senseless—kill him, even. "It does not matter what my wife's motives were—the plain and simple fact is that she enabled the Potter boy—_you all_—to succeed and the Dark Lord fail. That has to count for something. Nothing is black and white."

"Mr. Shacklebolt," called out a familiar voice.

Lucius craned his head to see the speaker. _Potter_.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Kingsley asked mildly.

"Could I please say something?"

Kingsley glanced at his fellow Ministry companions who nodded their assent, for who could deny Harry Potter anything, the saviour of the wizarding world?

"Go ahead, Mr. Potter," Kingsley said graciously.

Harry Potter stood up from his front row seat next to the Weasley family who were glaring at Lucius and walked to the middle of the room, standing between Lucius and the Ministry tribunal. The crowd was hushed, waiting for Potter to speak. Lucius covertly looked at Narcissa, who gazed back at him, her eyes a tumult of emotions though she still kept her composure.

"We have been through so much war, death and destruction. Now is the time to make amends—_forgiveness_. I do not propose that we by any means forget what people like Malfoy and others of his persuasion committed, for we have all lost people dear to us," Harry said, his eyes flicking to the Weasleys, "But we must move on. Now is not the time for retribution." Whispers rose at Harry's speech. "Draco Malfoy did what he thought was necessary to protect his family and I was there the night Dumbledore was murdered and I saw the repugnance in Draco's eyes at being forced to do such a thing. He could not bring himself to mutter that last, ultimate and irreversible spell to end another's life—in the end, someone else had to do the job for him. Draco is a braggart and a bully and I like him about as much as a vomit flavoured Bertie Botts jelly bean—but he is not a murderer and should not be tried like his father.

On that terrible, yet victorious night—that final battle at Hogwarts only one week ago, the Malfoys did not fight with the rest of the Death Eaters: they were looking for their son. I agree they have to be punished, but not imprisonment in Azkaban. What the Malfoys went through in the last two years, I believe was punishment and made them reluctant servants of Voldemort—" Harry held up his hands for silence, ignoring some of the shocked faces of the spectators. "Whether I, or you all, like it or not—Narcissa's concern for her son saved my life and indirectly enabled me to defeat Voldemort. I believe that we can put the Malfoys to a better use. They are wealthy—enormously wealthy—and I think that their money can be put to good use; such as to funds to be set up for victims of the war's families, rebuilding Hogwarts and to improve St Mungos. I am sure that it would be more of a punishment for the Malfoys to see their beautiful money put to good use for causes that involve half-bloods, muggles and Squibs, than to lock them up in Azkaban—what do you all think? I plead for all of you to look favourably upon this more constructive punishment. Thank-you."

Harry Potter bowed to the stunned applause of the crowd. Even the Weasleys appeared impressed. Kingsley was engaged in a deep debate with the other Ministers. Lucius' head was swirling. What was happening? Did that Potter boy just intercede for him and his family?

Kingsley stood up. "We will recess for half an hour. Guards, please take Mr. Malfoy to join his son in their cell."

Two burly guards nodded their assent and escorted Lucius back to the rather dank holding cell where Draco sat hunched over on a simple chair.

"Father!" Draco exclaimed as soon as the guards departed, his eyes wide. "What happened out there?"

Lucius lowered himself almost dazedly onto the chair. "The Potter boy interceded for us."

Draco gaped. "You're kidding."

"Do I ever 'kid' you, Draco?" Lucius asked icily.

"No, father."

Lucius suddenly grasped his son by the forearms. "My son!" he whispered, his eyes gleaming, "I believe that we will be reprieved! That lot will suck up anything that Potter boy says!"

Draco blinked, the thought of _Potter_, his school enemy, stepping forwards on his behalf? The idea was _mental_. "We could be going home, father!" he said, struggling to keep his voice level.

"To your mother," Lucius said, then his gaze darkened. "However, there are conditions attached."

Draco's excitement bled out of him like a lead balloon. "What kind of conditions?" he asked suspiciously.

"That we donate a significant amount of our fortune to certain causes that I look upon with scant liking—muggleborns and such."

"Oh."

There was silence for a moment.

"But father, isn't donating that money better than being separated from-from mother and being in-in jail?" Draco asked cautiously, unable to predict how his father would reply to something his father would see as ludicrously sentimental. But to Draco' surprise, Lucius' face actually softened and appeared uncommonly thoughtful.

"You're right, Draco," Lucius murmured, "There could be far worse things. We are Malfoys. We have been taught self-preservation from our mother's wombs. We are the survivors, my son. When others drown beneath their own self-destructive passions and vain heroisms, we transcend them all."

Draco nodded intently, gaining strength from his father's words.

"Never forget that my son. Never."

"I won't, father, I won't," Draco replied, breathing in deeply. He would never be able to express how much he felt for his father at this point.

Lucius gripped his son's hand tightly, his face lined with an emotion that Draco could not discern. "You are my son, Draco, my son. Don't you forget that either," he said in a voice that was laced with tightly suppressed emotion.

"You know I wouldn't, father."

Father and son stared at each other for a long moment, neither saying anything. The heavy plodding of the guards returning to collect them out of their cells broke them out of their reverie, and they immediately became aloof and composed again.

* * *

"Witches and wizards," Kingsley's rich voice boomed across the court room, "I now will deliver the sentence of Lucius Malfoy and Draco Malfoy."

Narcissa's fingernails dug hard into her skin and she could see blood seeping in between her palms. Her heart was thudding, her eyes were stinging and her mouth was dry. She had the most unlady-like need to hurl up all over the floor if that dratted idiot did not read out the verdict now. She could not imagine—she refused to imagine—the possibility of living without her husband and son. It was dramatic, something she would have attributed to her exiled sister Andromeda or Bellatrix, but she could not. She had invested her entire being into her two men who were the most important people in her life. She refused to believe that all the suffering she had endured over the past couple of years would be for nothing. If her family was sentenced to life in Azkaban, she would go home and throw herself off the tallest balcony or the roof. She did not care for her own life if her two men were not there beside her—she had no other family and the wider wizarding community despised her for being married to one of Voldemort's inner henchmen, though at the end, Lucius was kicked to the outer ring—but none of those ignorant, self-righteous prats would care.

She looked upon the Potter boy with quiet wonder. Why and how did he intercede for her family? Her family were the complete antithesis to what he stood for, had killed—directly or indirectly—people he loved, yet he had mercy to shower upon her family. Something defrosted in her heart. Surely her dear husband and son would be freed because of Potter's persuasive speech? Potter could tell them all to move the Ministry of Magic to the Great Lake at Hogwarts and they would probably obey him.

She sat alone in her row of course because no one wanted to carry the stigma of being associated with the wife and mother of condemned Death Eaters. All day she could feel their burning looks, whispers and mutters but she held her head proudly. She would not be ashamed of herself and her family…

"…and now I pronounce that Misters Lucius and Draco Malfoy are freed from prison. They will not endure any sentence in Azkaban. However, I do stress that I do not for one minute forget the heinous and nefarious atrocities that Lucius Malfoy has committed, but I have been swayed by Mr. Potter's plea for clemency and believe that a significant donation of the Malfoy's wealth each month for eighteen years will be a most beneficial source for the community to heal the wounds inflicted by the war. The healing process begins now. You are free to go now, Lucius and Draco Malfoy. I will send around two clerks from Gringotts tomorrow to begin the arrangements. Case dismissed." Kingsley banged his gravel hard on the wooden oak high desk.

Chatter filled the room, many shooting Narcissa dirty looks. Euphoria rose up inside of her. They were free! She didn't care about the money. They were free! She fought down the urge to leap over the divide and fling herself into her husband's arms and hug her son tightly. She didn't care what came after this. She made her way down to the centre of the court where Lucius and Draco were waiting for her.

None of the three embraced each other. It was not their way. But the burning look of triumph that Lucius wore, the dazed face of Draco and the positively radiant face of the habitually glacial Narcissa, bespoke their restrained gestures. They were oblivious to the hostile stares of many.

"Let us return home, Lucius," Narcissa said firmly.

"I couldn't agree more," Lucius drawled, tucking his wife's arm securely in the crook of his elbow, his hand lingering on hers longer than appropriate. The two shared a brief, private and heated look.

Draco stood on the other side of his mother and slid her arm through his.

Then the three, the triumvirate, that had survived the War when so many had died, walked proudly with the Malfoy hauteur that no one else could accomplish, out through the courtroom and outside. None of them thought of what was going to come after—the hatred and ridicule from people nor of the large sums of money they would lose—they only thought of this moment of freedom. The Dark Lord was gone. None of them were going to Azkaban. It was sweet indeed.

As Draco walked down the steps with his parents, his father's words that he had said in the cell came back to him:

_We are Malfoys…we are the survivors, my son. When others drown beneath their own self-destructive passions and vain heroisms, we transcend them all_…

**The End.**

**Please review and tell me what you think! I read somewhere that Rowling said the Malfoys were let off and escaped imprisonment because of Harry interceding for them. This is how I thought it might happen. I didn't believe they would be let off scot-free, so I think that a financial arrangement was used instead. Imagine the look on Malfoy's face when his money is used to cure a sick Muggleborn! Lol…please review!!**


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